


Clarity

by Mari_Writes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu jumps to conclusions, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Humor, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Misunderstandings, Post-Timeskip, Pre-Relationship, Pro Volleyball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Writes/pseuds/Mari_Writes
Summary: Atsumu Miya is slowly coming to terms with the fact that he might be, possibly, unfortunately, jealous of Ushijima Wakatoshi's relationship with Sakusa.It's fine, though. No one knows. Atsumu is incredibly careful to not be obvious.Or so he thinks.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sakusa Kiyoomi & Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 303





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first SakuAtsu fic! I've been working on this off and on for a few months now. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.
> 
> If you enjoy, please help me out by leaving a comment and sharing it on 
> 
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/mari_writes1/status/1353094640707100672) and/or [Tumblr](https://mari-writes.tumblr.com/post/641145328767221760/clarity). Thank you! :)

Miya Atsumu does not get jealous.

It just doesn’t happen to him. And why would it? He has everything he ever wanted—a dream career, a nice apartment, an unlimited supply of his twin brother’s delicious onigri. He is only in his twenties and already a professional athlete with more money than he could ever have imagined, with legions of adoring fans.

He does not get jealous.

Or rather—he _shouldn’t_.

But life has a habit of throwing curveballs at Atsumu. Like in middle school, when a boy from his art class had impulsively kissed him and Atsumu had _liked_ it. Or when his brother decided to quit volleyball, officially sending him out on his own for the first time in his life.

And now… this.

He watches, fingers clenching into the fabric of his gym shorts as Sakusa Kiyoomi converses with Ushijima Wakatoshi on the other side of the gym. Sakusa’s body language is relaxed, his arms hanging loosely at his side and his shoulders free of their usual tension. By Sakusa standards, he looks incredibly comfortable.

Atsumu knows that Sakusa has harbored a crush on the other spiker for years. It was common knowledge among certain training camp circles in high school. He remembers hearing that a couple of boys had been teasing Sakusa for it, and that his cousin, Komori, had swooped in to defend him.

Judging by how Sakusa is looking at the other man now, Atsumu guesses the crush is still going strong.

Isn’t Atsumu above this all? He shouldn’t care who freaking Sakusa Kiyoomi wants to bang. Or start dating. Or enter into a relationship with.

But he does care, and it’s ridiculous. Sickening. He feels like gagging just thinking about it.

It also acutely reminds him of how inexperienced he is. Despite accepting his sexuality ages ago, he’s never had a relationship that lasted more than a month, and he could count the amount of dates and hookups he’s had on one hand.

It’s not a big deal. Not everyone has—or needs—romance. Some people are perfectly happy without it, or just haven’t found the right person. Atsumu had never really cared either way. His teammates often complain when Meian or Bokuto gush about their significant others. They say stuff like, “Stop rubbing your happiness in our face!” or, “Please spare us the details of your sex life.” (Bokuto had indeed overshared a few times.)

But Atsumu couldn’t care less. Good for them—but it had nothing to do with _him_.

And yet, seeing the obvious infatuation teeming through Sakusa as he stands in the presence of Ushijima, Atsumu can’t help but feel jealous.

 _You’re a complete idiot,_ his brain chastises, _why Sakusa Kiyoomi, of all people?_

Superficially it made sense. Atsumu was attracted to hot people, and Sakusa was perhaps the hottest person he had ever closely coexisted with for an extended period of time. That physique—narrow waist, wide shoulders, long legs—was devastating. Those dark curls fell across his face in such a way that made Atsumu’s fingers twitch with a need to touch. The duo of moles on his forehead were beauty marks, plain and simple—dark imprints contrasting against a snowy complexion.

Atsumu was for some reason even attracted to Sakusa’s abnormally flexible wrists, which he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on or try to understand.

But the personality of Sakusa Kiyoomi left much to be desired. His bad attitude, his disgust of social or physical interaction… they were all traits Atsumu usually couldn’t stand. He much preferred people who were bright and uplifting.

Like Shouyou-kun. Why couldn’t he have fallen for Hinata Shouyou? Sure, basically everyone who had met the guy sort of had a crush on him. But it was different. Atsumu can (discreetly) fantasize about Hinata but he can’t imagine “settling down” with him.

Why the hell could he imagine that with _Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi?_

Well, he does like how passionate Sakusa is about volleyball. He admires his dedication to the sport and the way he will go above and beyond, even out of his comfort zone for the benefit of his team.

Sakusa is often hilarious without even trying. He delivers amazingly smart, snappy comebacks. He’s also adorably close to Komori and apparently loves animals.

_He’s not that bad, really…_

“Atsumu-san?”

Hinata sits down next to him, water bottle in one hand and volleyball in the other. Rolling the ball back and forth in small motions on his thigh, he peers at Atsumu curiously. “Are you okay? You look constipated.”

Sputtering, Atsumu finally lessens his grip on his shorts and turns to his teammate. “I-I’m not!”

A sympathetic look passes over Hinata’s face. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve had lots of experience with it and could give you some pointers…”

“I’m not constipated, okay?!”

The young man’s eyebrows raise and he leans back, and Atsumu automatically regrets raising his voice.

“So what’s it, then? Are you pissed we lost? It’s just a practice match!”

Atsumu huffs, folding his arms in front of him. “Ushijima just got lucky with that stupid lefty spike of his. Where does he get off, being so naturally gifted? It’s not fair.” Atsumu knows he’s trying to shift focus to the guy’s volleyball instead of confronting his jealousy about… the _other_ _thing_. But honestly, he doesn’t know what else to do.

Hinata chuckles. “Yeah, it’s annoying! I felt the same way about Kageyama at first. But you know, I think working hard for something is just as impressive, and…”

Atsumu feels bad about tuning Hinata out, but it’s at this moment he notices Sakusa walking back over, gracefully ducking under the net. His steps are light. There is a minuscule quirk to his lips.

He looks calm. Content. Happy.

_You could never make him feel that way._

“All right guys, listen up!”

Atsumu tears his eyes away from Sakusa’s approaching form (and what a beautiful form it is), and jogs over to where Coach Foster is bringing the team together for a review of the game.

Thankfully, Atsumu’s brain can easily switch into Volleyball Mode, even in the most challenging times. He listens, absorbing the advice his coach gives and filing away as much information as possible.

After their huddle the team disperses to the locker rooms. Atsumu gets dressed quickly, dodging Bokuto and Hinata’s half-naked piggyback antics and heading out, his bag slung over one shoulder.

He really needs some sleep. And possibly a stiff drink.

He gets as far as the parking lot when he spots Ushijima standing next to a tiny yellow car. The man is looking down at his phone, wearing his usual deadpan expression. His posture is straight and he’s gripping his duffle bag firmly.

He looks so put-together. Regal. Serious.

Atsumu’s upper lip twitches in annoyance. He really should just leave him alone. He should walk away to the team shuttle that takes them to their apartments. Or maybe he could give him a respectful nod and say “good game.”

But of course, he doesn’t do that.

“Woah, nice clown car! Heading off to join the nearest circus?”

(Atsumu had never been good at filtering his thoughts, after all.)

The other man looks up, a slight furrow in his brow. He notices Atsumu and immediately pockets his phone.

 _That polite bastard._

“Miya-san.” He somehow manages to straighten his shoulders even further. “It was a good scrimmage. Perhaps next time your receivers will be in better shape.”

Scoffing, Atsumu saunters over, letting his distaste show. “Whatever, man. Don’t change the subject. You sure you can even fit in this thing?” He raps a knuckle against the hood of the car. “Don’t your knees hit the ceiling?”

“Not at all. It’s surprisingly roomy.” Ushijima turns to open the door, pointing inside. “Perhaps you would like to see for yourself. Are you shopping for an automobile?”

Atsumu can feel his blood boiling. He knows the other man has done absolutely nothing wrong, but it just makes so much sense that Sakusa would be head-over-heels for him, and it makes him angry.

“No. I’m surprised _you_ have one, though. I thought you’d be a bit more practical with your money.” He smirks. “Though if I were to use my earnings on a car, I’d go with a much cooler model, _Ushiwaka_.”

 _Shut up,_ his brain screams. _Please just shut up. You’re acting like a child._

“I have not heard that nickname for a long time,” Ushijima says. “You have been spending a lot of time with Hinata Shouyou.”

Atsumu shrugs. “Obviously,” he says. “Shouyou-kun is my spiker, after all. The _best_ spiker.”

“He has definitely improved greatly since high school.”

Of course. Ushijima _would_ be too big of a person to insult Hinata. Apparently, the two had buried the hatchet long ago.

Hinata himself appears as if by some clairvoyant force, skipping out of the gym with Bokuto by his side. They’re chatting loudly about the game, hands gesticulating in the air and smiles on their faces. And behind them is Sakusa.

Atsumu hates that his heart quite literally clenches at the sight of him, with his stupid curls tumbling down over his stupid masked face. He’s foregone his jacket and instead dons a long-sleeved shirt. It’s tight. His arms look good. Atsumu's gaze locks on him as he approaches.

“Bye, Ushijima-san!” Hinata and Bokuto wave as they walk towards the shuttle. “Good game! See you next time!

Ushijima bows to them, then turns to Sakusa. “Please let me know how the puppy adoption turns out,” he says. “I would like a photo of the animal, if possible.”

“I will send you a text message.” Sakusa nods once before following the others.

_What the fuck?_

Atsumu can’t believe what he just heard. Those two text each other? They talk about personal things happening in their lives? They’re that close?

Also, Sakusa is getting a puppy? _Why is that so damn cute?_

He sends one last glare to Ushijima, who is looking at him curiously (or as curiously as his stoic face will allow), before hurrying after his teammate.

He swallows down his nervousness and plasters on another signature smirk. “So,” he says, “Finally got the big man’s digits, eh? I didn’t think you had it in you, loverboy.”

Sakusa shoots him a glare, his eyes full of that one specific type of fire he seems to only reserve for Atsumu. “What?”

 _“Ushiwaka-kun_ over there. Did you guys finally start going out, or..?”

Sakusa’s eyes widen a fraction, then roll back so far in his head that Atsumu worries for their optic nerves. He takes a long, exasperated breath.

“You call Bokuto the team fool, Miya, but I really think you should look in the mirror. And for more than just your vanity.”

Atsumu stops dead in his tracks. No comeback comes to him. He just watches as his teammate walks away, the alluring breadth of his shoulders on full display.

He wants to be angry, but he’s too busy being floored by the ruthless wit he had just been subjected to. Sakusa had insulted him, sure, but he’d done it in such a way that made Atsumu’s skin tingle just a bit.

A honk breaks Atsumu out of his dangerous train of thought. He turns to see Ushijima’s car pulling up right beside him.

“I can drive you home, Miya-san. It will give you a chance to experience the vehicle.”

Atsumu throws his arms up. “Oh my god, _Ushiwaka_ , I’m not shopping for a fucking car!”

“Apologies.” The other man clears his throat.“I would still like to drive you home. After all, we were not done with our conversation.”

Frowning, Atsumu folds his arms in front of him. “Uh, yeah, I think we were. Anyway, for all I know you could be driving me to some kind of circus where you’ll attach me to one of those… uh, wheel things that you throw knives at, and…”

“Miya-san.”

Atsumu stops rambling at Ushijima’s serious tone. The man still looks calm, but there is a noticeable crease in his brow, like he’s trying not to lose his patience.

“I assumed you would like a break from traveling with such… boisterous companions. I am sure it can be tiring.”

Atsumu blinks. Is Ushijima actually just offering to give him a ride home so they can finish talking? And has he noticed that Atsumu feels overwhelmed by his teammates’ antics?

_Polite bastard, indeed._

Atsumu relents, shrugging and sauntering over to the passenger side door of the car. He throws himself inside, sighing.

“Fine,” he mutters, locking in. He tries to ignore the fact that Ushijima was right—the car is indeed spacious. He throws his bag to the floor by his feet. “But I’m not saying thank you.”

Slowly, they move towards the exit of the parking lot. Atsumu rolls his window down to let in some fresh air. He can still hear Bokuto’s loud guffawing in the distance.

Suddenly he gets an idea.

“Wait! Wait, no, go out that way.” He indicates the other end of the lot, where the team is. “I want to do something.”

Surprisingly, Ushijima obeys without question, doing a three-point turn and heading in the opposite direction.

Atsumu grins, slackening his seatbelt a bit so he can push up and lean part of his body out of the window. As they approach the shuttle he is delighted to see that Sakusa is among those who haven’t yet boarded.

_Perfect._

“Floor it, Ushiwaka.”

In a flash, the tiny vehicle is shooting out onto the street and Atsumu is throwing up crude hand gestures at his teammates.

“Later, motherfuckers!” He sticks out his tongue obnoxiously, relishing in Sakusa’s look of shock. Hinata and Bokuto are laughing and cheering him on as they peel out of the parking lot. He thinks he hears his captain cussing him out.

Atsumu cackles, settling back into the car. He drums on his thighs. Maybe it was childish, but he feels pretty satisfied.

Ushijima remains completely stone-faced. His hands are on the steering wheel in perfect position, seat ramrod straight. A quick glimpse around the vehicle shows no sign of personal touches. There is a box of tissues in the back, though, and a tub of cleaning wipes near the console.

“Wow, I can see why you and Omi get along. This thing is spotless,” he admits. “A bit boring, though. Have you ever thought of putting one of those little dogs with a bobbing head on the dashboard?”

“No.” Ushijima stops at an intersection. “I expect that would be a distraction.”

They sit in silence for a while, waiting for the light the turn. Then, after it does and they move on,Atsumu realizes something.

“I guess you know where I live, huh?” They turn left at the next street, in the correct direction of the Black Jackals' apartments.

“Of course. I have driven Sakusa there a few times.”

It’s like Atsumu’s body has been dumped in ice water. “R-right. Of course.” He slouches in his seat, trying not to imagine all the scenarios in which Ushijima would be giving Sakusa _rides._ “You and Omi. I get it.”

Ushijima doesn’t respond at first. Silence descends again, but now it is stifling. Atsumu feels a weird tension in the air—more than just the awkwardness of two people who don’t know each other very well.

It might just be his imagination…

“I've had a feeling for a while, Miya-san, that you do not like that Sakusa and I are close.”

Atsumu hates how fast his face heats up, a contrast from the chill in his bones a moment ago. “W-what?” he cries, releasing something between a scoff and a sputter. He turns abruptly towards the window, hoping Ushijima is still being overly cautious watching the road. “No, I don’t! As if I would ever… I don’t give a shit about what you and Omi do! I don’t even _want_ to know!”

The other man sighs. “Miya-san, I do not mean any disrespect.”

The words only embarrass Atsumu further. He can’t believe it—Ushijima had _noticed_. He had noticed that Atsumu was jealous. Maybe he even knew about his _crush_.

 _I want to die,_ Atsumu thinks, his hand already reaching for the door handle, ready to jump out into traffic.

“Sakusa and I have known each other for many years, and with that comes a certain level of familiarity,” Ushijima says.

Atsumu winces as his hand brushes the handle. He squeezes his eyes shut as Ushijima continues.

“We have a lot in common. We are both volleyball players, care deeply about personal hygiene and have similar dispositions.”

“Yeah, I know,” Atsumu grits out. He can’t believe the other man is rubbing it in like this. If he knows how Atsumu feels, why would he—

“But friendship is the extent of our relationship.”

Atsumu goes rigid. He turns hesitatingly to look at the other man, who is still facing straight ahead.

“He did have feelings for me at first. He confessed quite plainly, when we were still both in high school.”

Atsumu frowns.

“I did not reciprocate.” He grips the steering wheel harder. “I felt quite bad about it. Sakusa is a good person. Thankfully, we talked it through and have remained close. As friends.”

Atsumu leans back into his seat fully, biting his lip, holding his breath. There is only one reason why Ushijima would want to clarify these things… only one reason why he would want to talk to him _alone_...

“I am not a rival for his romantic affections.”

 _Yup, there it is._

It’s official. Ushijima knows about Atsumu’s crush. He groans, burying his scalding face in his hands. What an embarrassing turn of events.

“We’ve arrived, Miya-san.”

Atsumu looks up and sees that Ushijima has indeed pulled up in front of the apartments. He hadn’t even noticed they were getting close.

Shaking, he grabs his bag and exits the car. He isn’t sure if he should swallow his pride and thank Ushijima after all. For some reason he is feeling quite indebted to the man. Which is crazy. Hadn’t he been hatefully jealous twenty minutes ago?

“One last thing,” Ushijima says through the open window.

“Y-yeah?”

The older man looks at him intently. “As I said, Sakusa is a good person. But he is hard to understand. Be straightforward and honest about your feelings.”

With one final nod, Ushijima pulls back into traffic and speeds off.

Atsumu watches as the car disappears into the distance. So many emotions are pouring through his brain right now—embarrassment, relief, confusion, nervousness, happiness. He still doesn’t quite understand why he’s feeling any of them.

Does he actually want to pursue Sakusa? Well, yes. The man might be a menace, but for some reason Atsumu still likes him. He at least likes him enough to hold a grudge against Ushijima Wakatoshi and act like a jealous weirdo.

But what does Sakusa think of _him_? Ushijima had acted supportive of Atsumu’s interest, almost as if he was giving his blessing, which is absolutely ridiculous. Does he know something?

Does Sakusa talk about _him_?

“What the hell are you doing, Miya?”

Flinching, Atsumu whips around to see the man himself standing in front of their building. Apparently the team shuttle had arrived.

“Omi!” He swallows hard, gripping his bag and rushing forward. “Uh, what?”

Sakusa narrows his eyes, stepping back to let him in through the door. “You were just standing there, staring off into space like an idiot.”

Atsumu stops himself from retorting with something dumb like, _“No, you’re the idiot!”_ He’s embarrassed himself enough for one day.

“I was just… watching the sunset! Yup. That’s all. Ushiwaka dropped me off a few minutes ago.”

Sakusa huffs through his mask as they make their way through the lobby. “When did you and him start hanging out?”

Atsumu chuckles. “Are you jealous we’re becoming friends?”

“No, just worried for his safety.”

Atsumu scoffs as they board the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sakusa move to the opposite corner, as far away as possible. He holds his hands in front of him, hunching forward slightly in that awkward pose he’s been doing since high school. Back then it had always seemed like a rude defense mechanism to Atsumu. Now he finds it strangely endearing.

 _Say something_ , his brain chides. _You have a chance to reach out. Make conversation._

He recalls Ushijima’s words: “Be straightforward and honest,” he had said.

Atsumu takes a breath.

“So.” He grips the handrail behind him to keep his hands from shaking. “I hear you’re getting a puppy.”

The other man’s eyes widen a fraction. He nods, a curl unfurling delicately over his forehead. Atsumu tracks its movement.

“Cool! I love dogs!” Atsumu grins. “Even if I’m more of a cat person, myself.”

Sakusa hums. He shifts slightly. “Cats are… nice. They’re good at staying clean. Though I’m partial to dogs.”

They ride in silence for a bit. Atsumu can’t help but gaze at his companion’s jawline, outlined by the florescent lights above. It’s ridiculously angular.

He also notices that Sakusa’s hands have lost a bit of tension—instead of gripped together his fingers are threaded loosely.

Atsumu bites his lip. “Can you… let me know when the puppy arrives? I’d really like to meet it.”

Sakusa turns, eyebrows raised, and their eyes finally lock.

Atsumu has no idea what his face looks like right now. He only hopes that the small smile he’s wearing is coming off genuine—because _it is_. He’s done with only sending Sakusa dumb smirks and taunting jeers. He wants to show this guy he can be kind and sincere, too.

 _Wow,_ he thinks. _That’s a first._

“Sure.” Sakusa nods. “I’ll… let you know.”

There’s something in his gaze Atsumu has never seen before. He can’t quite put a finger on what it is, but it’s making Atsumu’s insides fuzzy and warm.

The elevator finally stops at Sakusa’s floor. The man hoists his gym bag a bit higher on his shoulder before striding forward. He offers once last fleeting glance.

“Well, good night.” He speed walks out and into the hallway, disappearing around the corner. The elevator doors close.

Atsumu sighs wistfully. “Yeah.” He grins. “Good night, Omi.”

 _Well,_ he thinks. _It’s a start._

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for a funny back-and-forth text conversation at the end between Atsumu and Osamu, but I wanted to keep things softer and more "up in the air," if that makes sense. Who knows, those messages might pop up in another fic someday. ;)
> 
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/mari_writes1/status/1353094640707100672)   
>  [Tumblr](https://mari-writes.tumblr.com/post/641145328767221760/clarity)


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